Frying pan
by Strawberry Pocky Stix
Summary: It's like they went straight from the frying pan, right into the fire. Tony/Bruce, PWP


**I should stop.**

**But either way, here it is, my second fiction with some actual SEX in it.**

**This is why I don't write sex, people. But Amber requested it, and it's almost her birthday, so... *dies***

**Hope you enjoy it in all it's inaccuracy!**

**I don't own these sweeties; I'm just borrowing them and using them for my own strange experiments.**

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It's like they went straight from the frying pan, right into the fire.

Both were brilliant, talented men, but neither could tell you how they got here; Bruce had just come back from his trip- three years of globetrotting- and they'd been some kind of flirting as they talked about his trip and worked at the same time.

One moment, they were working together in the labs.

And the next, Bruce was pushed up against an empty table and being kissed senseless.

It's all a rush of warm skin, rapid heartbeats, searching hands, eager lips, flushed faces. They love every second of it until the need to breathe rears its inconvenient head and Tony moves to ravage Bruce's neck. And Bruce groans as he does, their hips rocking together sensually and Tony's hands working at his favourite purple shirt. It slips off his shoulders and gets caught between his hip and the lab table.

Tony's hands run up his sides and he sucks on his neck, Bruce's head falls back and he lets out a soft groan as the other man brushes his nipples. His own hands are up Tony's shirt, and Tony pulls away with a wet smack, the area he was sucking on swollen and red. The shirt is pulled over his head and tossed behind them, over another table and down to the floor. Bruce lets his head dip to place heated, open-mouthed kisses to Tony's chest, his hands coming up to rub at his shoulders and down over his arms.

The soft hum of the arc reactor is in his ears, and he nudges the metal with his nose before gently licking at the edge of it. Tony shudders, one hand coming up to Bruce's hair and curling the soft strands in his fingers. Bruce sucks a pert nipple into his mouth and the other man arches his hips into him slightly; Tony has sensitive nipples. Remember that.

He moves his hands down to Tony's belt, moving to push him up against the adjacent lab table, not far from some chemicals in Florence flasks, one sitting on a Bunsen burner, and a small rack of test tubes on the far right.

The belt slips of, and Bruce detaches himself from Tony's chest, licking a hot trail up his neck and to the skin just below his ear. Tony's hands moved to his own zipper, and nodded at Bruce's pants;

"Yours," He mutters breathlessly, and the slightly smaller man tugs his belt away quickly, working his zipper down. Tony slides his jeans off quickly, and before he can pull off his boxers, Bruce is up against him again, grinding their hips together.

He goes commando.

Who knew?

Neither of them is fully erect, but they're slowly getting there. Tony groans when Bruce reaches down into his boxers, and it's quickly swallowed up by the other man as he kisses Tony quickly and passionately. Bruce strokes him slowly with rough, calloused fingers, and it's pleasurably uncomfortable.

Tony kisses him back feverishly, hands sliding down Bruce's sides to find his erection. Bruce makes a noise into his mouth when he's gripped, breaking the kiss off to let Tony kiss at his neck again. He gives a heated whisper of the other's name and squeezes him gently, and Tony lets himself stroke Bruce slowly. He reaches behind him, into a drawer; in it is a tube of lotion he likes to use. He pulls back and flips the cap up, spreading some on his hand. He balls his fist for a moment, then returns his hand to Bruce, who lets his head fall forward to Tony's shoulder with another deep groan, and he snatches the hand lotion away quickly.

He squeezes some onto his own hand, bucking into Tony's as he does, and moves to stroke the other's manhood in time.

For a few minutes, they're nothing but a franticly tugging and bucking, moaning groaning mass of two men, until Tony sees Bruce's eyes flash green. His hand slips from his partner's erection clumsily, and he's about to try and supress the Hulk when Bruce turns him quickly and he's bent over the lab table. There's a transparent red chemical about two feet in front of him settling back on its Bunsen burner shakily, and Bruce's hand fists in his hair and pulls his head back. He grunts softly, the cool metal practically fusing with his hot skin.

He's not in pain, but he's surprised.

He's even more surprised when Bruce grinds against him from behind, still stroking his erection with his free hand. Tony's eyes fall shut and his hands ball and splay in and out of a fist, and he groans unashamedly loud. He bucks his hips when Bruce's thumb flicks over his head, then the hand in his hair is gone, and his head falls forward onto his arms. He's propped on his elbows and almost whimpering when Bruce stops stroking him, and steps back. He takes a step back to find him again when he hears a small pop.

It sends a shiver up his spine, and he knows Bruce's plan, and who's he to object?

He bites his lip when he feels a slippery finger rubbing at his entrance, and he pushes back against it. Bruce puts a hand on his hip, leaning over him and whispering hotly into his ear. After a few moments of that, one finger slips in, and after a while, two, and the most Tony can feel is a mild discomfort.

They may be going fast, but Bruce is still taking care of him; he knows that.

He's been with men before; both ways- and he knows that it hurts if it's not done correctly, but Bruce seems to know what he's going.

Tony can tell it's not his first rodeo.

Then there's a third finger, and he groans softly, pushing back a bit against them. The third finger- Bruce has relatively large fingers- is just for precaution, he knows; so the actual act won't be painful.

His fingers are gone after a while, and Tony shivers at what's to come. He wonders what they'll think of this in the morning, but at the moment, he doesn't care.

Bruce is soon behind him again, one hand on his left hip, and he's slowly pushing in.

There's pressure, but it's not too much to handle- it's actually relatively pleasurable, and Tony hums softly. His second hand comes to Tony's other hip, and Bruce is bent over him. Tony shifts them, stepping closer to the lab table and bracing his hands on it. One comes up to brush his hair back a bit, and he looks over his shoulder at Bruce.

He sees subtle green on his shoulders and nose, around his eyes and his hands. His eyes are emerald as they glance at Tony; and the billionaire _should_ be scared; he _should_ be terrified; but he's not.

And he's okay with that.

Bruce leans in to pepper is lower back with kisses and little love bites, and Tony's head falls back as the other begins to move at the same time.

He doesn't allow much time for slow and steady- a few tender thrusts before the pace is faster, and Tony's leaning back over the table again, arms slowly giving out. His knees aren't the most reliable things, either, but they'll survive.

Tony lets himself moan and groan freely, spouting out profanity when need be, trying his best to move with Bruce's thrusts.

Then- for the love of science- he's stroking Tony in time, murmuring softly against his shoulder blade, and Tony moans- long and deep.

They're a frantic mess of moans and sweat and soft grunts and whispers for a while longer, disturbing and rustling beakers and flasks and test tubes across from them, and half way through, he's sure a pen hits the floor across the way, above the clinking of glass.

After that, neither of them can take it, and Bruce comes first. He rides it out as best he can, not even giving a real Bruce cry; it's a loud growl from the Hulk, without the Hulk being there, and it turns into a soft, grumbly mantra of Tony's name between his shoulders.

He slips from the other's body rather unceremoniously, and continues to stroke him quickly.

Tony's crying out Bruce's name like there's no other name to call, and right now, there isn't- and then he comes in Bruce's hand. His legs try to give out, and he's happy he's not alone right now, because Bruce is holding him up as he rides out orgasm, and helps him sink slowly to his knees. He leans against Bruce, breathing heavily, eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Wow…" he murmurs breathlessly. Bruce smiles a bit, the green receding from his skin, and lingering in his eyes.

"Yeah," He breaths. "Wow."

Tony turns to look at him, and Bruce moves to kiss him softly.

He helps Tony stand, lets him lean on his shoulder. And they gather their clothes, and walk to the bathroom, and Tony lets Bruce clean them both happily, because he's tired now, and if Bruce is willing to clean him up, that's fine with him. Then they're dressed, but Tony doesn't bother even putting on his belt or buttoning his jeans, 'cause they'll just come off in a few minutes, anyway.

Bruce doesn't even button his shirt, and with a quiet command to JARVIS, the power to the labs is cut off, because he doesn't want to go back on his own to turn off the lights or the burners.

Once they get to a room- it happens to be Bruce's-, they kind of strip down again and fall into the bed, messily; clumsily. Perfectly. Bruce takes off his glasses and puts them on his nightstand, and he and Tony just kind of lay there, together, a blanket haphazardly tugged over them.

Tony's arm is resting on Bruce's hip, and Bruce has a hand on Tony's side, and they're both looking at each other- both tired.

They'll talk tomorrow; right now, sleep is tugging at both of them.

Bruce is the one to push back one stray strand of hair and lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to Tony's lips. The Billionaire smiles tiredly, and yawns, and they let their eyes fall shut.

The last thing Bruce hears before falling asleep is a sincere, but tired 'Welcome Home'.

* * *

***dying whale noises***


End file.
